The Scourge of 2001

In the Foot and Mouth Outbreak of 2001 my brothers farmed a farm that was taken out by the authorities it was quite devastating for my family. I was so emotionally disturbed by the outbreak resulting in me to be inspired to write this short story.

The Scourge of 2001

By Judith Owston ©

He looked into the loose-box the young Bull looked backed, bright eyed. After a while the farmer drew back the bolt of the door, quietly walked in, and closed the door slowly behind him. He leaned on his stick and stood looking at the young stirk, the beast ambled over to him, he patted the animal on its rump stroked the soft fur, silky to the touch.

The best bull he and his brother had ever bred and now this, foot and mouth, the scourge of farming. Their farm had not contracted the disease, but the government’s deterrent to this virulent disease is just as soul destroying, all his stock had to be killed. A tear rolled down the farmer’s cheek as he stroked the young stirk. The animal looked at him and stretched out it’s sandpaper tongue and licked his hand, then turned, slowly ambling over to the heck full of hay, pulled out a mouth full and, chewing, looked round at the farmer.

How could the people 300 miles away in Whitehall understand? This farm, his farm is only a statistic to them, only a cross on the map not even that, just a blur fused in with all the other farms affected by the disaster. A lifetime’s work of breeding these gentle giants would be beyond their imaginations, now they were all to go. A lump rose in his throat another tear trickled down his cheek; he wiped them away with the back of his gnarled hand. Heavy hearted he opened the door and let himself out into the fresh air.

He was too old to start again, what was there for him to do with his life, his children were grown up, none of them interested in farming. He didn’t blame them farming had changed so much over the last few years. It now seemed more important to fill in all the right forms, then to farm. To make a living had become harder and harder, at one time a yeoman farmer was looked upon with respect, not now. Farms were becoming bigger, people were leaving the land. To know all your cattle by name, the way he and his brother did, in time would be a thing of the past. Farmers are not against progress, but to work so hard, to produce good quality stock for such little reward is very hard to live with. It takes all the drive an incentive out of your work, leaving you degraded. Foot and Mouth is yet another hurdle to cross, down this downward slope.

He looked up at the sky full of stars he had often looked at the sky. Tonight everything felt different. All he could think about was those poor buggers, resting, stretching, farting, and chewing their cud. They were all to go. Men in suits that you hosed down with disinfectant would move in and do the deed. He saw a light fall out of the sky, was that a shooting star, you are supposed to make a wish when you see one. What should he wish for? His wish would no more come true, than turning back the clock. He thought back to his childhood, he was thirteen years old when his Dad bought the farm. Dad and Mam had struggled to make ends meet. He wondered if Dad and Mam could see the disaster. He had never really thought about that stuff, life after death, but there must be more to life than this. One of his dogs came running over bending its body sniffing round his legs. He bent down and patted the dog’s back. The dog wriggled its bendy body, ears back, wagging its tail. He thought how lucky the dog was to be a dog, as the animal rolled over onto his back, he bent down and scratched the dog’s tummy. Nobody really knows what it is liked until they go through it; the ache in your chest, holding back emotions, picturing the animals dead and bloated, the whole thing tearing you apart. Once it was all over and done with, and he could start thinking about the future. Perhaps, then he would find a turning point had come.

He opened the house door and let himself

The Shopkeepers, Love Poems

I dedicate these Poems to my young friend Danni.

Judy, The Shopkeeper

A Treasure of Love

Love is so tender

When you hold the one you adore

Love is so delicate

Leaving hurt an open door

Love is so precious

So treat like fine silken gossamer

Love is so warm

If kept kindled with loving care

Love is a treasure

No money in the world can buy

Love is to share

With the one you have by your side.

Love's Glow

The warmth of love

Will keep the cold hard world at bay

The respect gained from love

Help you hold your head high throughout the day

Closeness of love

Will give the strength of two to flow

Happiness in love

Melts all anger filling laughter in heart's to glow

Threads of Love

When threads of Love's fine silks are woven

Please never let them break

Because love can slip and fade away

Leaving tears and sadness in it's wake

Love

This tender, precious, delicate, treasure

A gift for you to cherish dear

Hold on to every part of it

Never let disappear

A Child's Love

Enjoying each day without a care

Always secure knowing you are there

Free of responsibility these children will glow
Happy in warm love they will blossom and grow

Poems By Judith Owston

The Shopkeeper was Adopted

On my day off I was visited by a Ginger cat, he sat on the wall by my house watching, intrigued I went over and stroked him he was a very friendly cat. Leaving him I returned to the kitchen filled a saucer with milk and carried it over to the ginger cat who still sat on the wall watching me. He lapped the milk greedily, he seemed to be very hungry. In cat language the saucer of milk was a invitation, I did not want any more cats we had two already and they were arched enemies, to have another cat I would need to call on the united nation to mediate in preventing world war three. My maternal instincts came to the foe as I could not see the poor creature starve, the cat followed me I closed the door in his face. Closing the door in his face made me feel heartless, yet the other two cats would not like to have another cat in their Queendom, Queendom because the other cats were females I was in quite a dilemma.

Back to work I thought long and hard about the cat my usual lunch time call to my husband I mentioned the cat, my husband said the cat was now on the window ledge trying to get in. That night my husband and I discussed the cat I liked the cat and so did he, none of the neighbours seemed to know anything about him, we decided to keep him I said he must be neutered, sorry this sounds cruel especially to all you male readers but Tom cats very deliberately produce a perfume that is not to my taste. We called the veterinaries and arranged the next night to have him done. The ginger Tom was very obliging unaware of his fate. The vet asked me his name I quickly said Thomas and told the Vet how we came to acquire him, his age I did not know He was a big cat but looked quite young, she thought about 9 months. The Veterinary said they'd do all the things vets do checked him over, worm him and of course neuter him he would have to stay in over night night.

The next day we fetched him home a very sleepy cat he lay on my sofa the other cats kept a respectful distance. Recovering from his ordeal he did not appear to be bothered or aware of their hissing and growling just glad to have a home. Thomas has very much made himself at home, the other two collectively wage war against him, tolerating each other more, in their intolerance against Thomas, Thomas ignore's them.

Thomas in the Garden                     

I have wrote a little poem about Thomas

Ginger Thomas

(one day he adopted us and decided to stay)

His plaintive cry, oh how I did sigh,
As he sat on the wall and looked in.
He licked his paw and washed his face,
Then with care he continued to preen.


He screwed up his face and gave a yawn,
Arched his long back in an angular Stretch,
Then precariously he lay on top of the wall
To languidly enjoy a very fine rest.


I opened the door with such gentle care
So not to wake him from his deep sleep
I smiled and gazed up but the cat was not there!
As this flash of bright ginger past me did streak


Now in the kitchen he looked up and stared,
A stare, that dismissed my kindness as fuss,
A stare, to remind me this cat must be fed
A stare, that demanded do not neglect puss.


Judith Owston.

The Shopkeeper Intended Only One

She thought "I'll just have one, only one little sweet" The Shopkeeper knew having one would lead to a downward spiral of self indulgence from where there was little escape, a wise voice told her no, but a little voice inside kept saying, have only one, working in a old fashioned sweet shop that also sold luxury ice cream, seemed to exacerbate her sweet tooth problem. Slack days were fatal "only one" she thought, looking at the sweet jars in anticipation, this stirred up the taste buds to that climatic desire, as she trundled along the jars "only one, which one I know Strawberry Sherbets, Strawberry Sherbets will last quite a long time so I may get away with just one" deep down she knew it was fatal.

Sucking on the sweet, enjoying its tangy sweetness, a customer comes in

"Can I have a quarter of Sport Mixture" now the thought of those gummy 'Sport Mixtures' triggered off another irresistible desire which had to be fulfilled.

Talking with the sweet in her mouth produce the inevitable remark

"I see you're eating all the profits" wearing her shopkeepers smile she quickly retorted.

"You've got to sample the goods you know"

Customer gone, now was her opportunity to have a gummy Sport Mixture or should she have a softer jelly, but there were so many to choose from, should she go fruity or liquorice. To late in comes another customer, ice cream not one but an order for three.

Scooping the creamy mouth watering luxury ice cream onto the cornets changed our poor shopkeepers mind, money in the till the salutations over, customers walking out through the door. now was her opportunity to indulge again, this time her mind changed to ice cream, So much choice, she pondered over all the different flavours, savouring each in her mind, her decision made 'Thunder and Lighting' this flavour has scrumptious cinder toffee, with streaks of chocolate ripple, running through the rich double jersey ice cream, The Shopkeeper's mouth watered at the thought of the delicious delicacy.

A loud bang, the door crashed open, revealing three obstreperous, noisy children, we want

"Thunder and Lighting" came the demand

"What size"

"Big'ns" they replied in unison.

From past experience The Shopkeeper knew to ask, how much money, have you all got? Opening out their sweaty hands they revealed their coins

" I'm sorry but you only have enough for child portion"

The children's expressions changed more demurely, thus returning a less boisterous retort in unison they uttered

"OK" The ice creams duly served, the children rushed out with happy smiles on their grubby faces.

Our shopkeeper returned to her secret longing and selected a cornet then scooped a very large 'Thunder and Lightening' ice cream the calorie enriched delicacy of sheer opulence, she brought to her mouth, this longed for treat. Then what should happen, only a bus load of pensioners all ambling up to her ice cream counter with their tongues hanging out. What was she going to do with her long for desire, with out thought she quickly laid it on the draining board in her little kitchen propped up against two mugs, she whispered under her breath "you behave your self and don't melt"

Back by the ice cream counter a welcoming smile on her face the shopkeeper started to take orders, Double Jersey, Crushed Strawberry, Death by Chocolate, Raspberry Pavlova, Blackcurrant and Cream, and so it went on her head never raised out of the ice cream cabinet good half hour past and she was still scooping "where are they all coming from" poor shopkeeper wondered. Then relief as the door closed.

"Thank God" rushing into the kitchen to reclaim her desired treasure, just to find a melted sticky mess dripping along the draining board into the sink the soggy cornet all flopped and crumpled.

"Oh blast, isn't that typical", cleaning up the sticky mess she returned to the counter. "I know I'll have a 'Sport Mixture" she lifted down the jar and selected a sweet, when the door opened and in came four loud youths.

"I can see you sampling the goods" she got such a fright dropping the jar the contents spilled out all over the floor, the boys grabbed handfuls of sweets stuffing their pockets.

"That's kind of you but you needn't throw them at us" treading on most, they laughed at her and swaggered out of the shop.

When they had left the poor shopkeeper again cleared up the mess, this time with dust pan and brush tipping the muddied crushed sweeties into the bin, she had just finished when in come an elderly couple, smiling to her the lady said.

"Isn't that nice seeing the old fashioned sweets all in jars" the shopkeeper smiled sweetly.

"Let me see, ah' I know Sport Mixture now where are they" The Shopkeeper smiled.

"I am so sorry but we have just sold out" the couple browsed some more then the man spoke up again.

"I know, Poor Ben's" The Shopkeeper carefully lifted the jar down and weighed the sweets out, wrapping up the sweets she handed them over and took the money with a smile and said.

"Yes, the old sweets are the best" the couple slowly walked out looking at the various other chocolates and gifts for sale.

Now finally on her own what could she eat, she licked her lips in anticipation and drooled over the chocolate bars. 'Milky Ways' are not quite so fattening or should I have a 'Mars Bar' they are very rich and sweet, the bars of fudge lay tempting on the shelf her eyes caught sight of them they were very thick and heavy, it had been along time since she had eaten one her mind made up she discreetly slipped a bar into her pocket. By now her mouth drooled as she thought about the sweet taste, then turning round she saw on her counter in a jar shinning like billiard balls the large 'American Gobstopper' just asking to be sampled. The Shopkeeper took the lid off the jar popped one of the gob stoppers in her pocket why not put another one in her other pocket so both pockets bulging with gobstoppers and the creamy fudge bar, The Shopkeeper thought "a sit down would be nice and I can secretly indulge".

Just then the door flew open, two masked men rushed in barged up to the counter holding menacing weapons in their hands a gun and knife the poor shopkeeper was taken by surprise.Thinking it was the young teenage boys that were in earlier, she yelled at the thugs knocking them off guard, in her pocket she could feel the giant gobstoppers, without thought, she threw the cricket ball sized gobstopper at the heads of her intruders, with the force of any fast bowler, poor Freddie Truman, England's famous fast bowler, must have turned in his grave. The intruders crashed to the floor banging their heads on the counter as they fell, to lie motionless with blood dripping from their heads. The quick thinking shopkeeper kicked the knife across the floor and collared the gun then grabbing the phone with her free hand she dialled 999.

The Shopkeeper had often dreamed of dialling 999 and here she was really doing it her heart thudding in her chest, at long last the call was answered as the thieves were stirring, using the butt of her gun she bashed their heads again, told the police her shop had been invaded by armed robbers, explaining where the shop was, they told her they were on their way.

*********************************************************************

Five minutes later sirens screaming, lights flashing the police arrived armed and wearing their bullet proof vests they quickly surrounded the shop.

Then the army of police crash through the door, the armed police stopped stock still in shocked amazement. Finding the now unarmed thieves sitting rubbing their blood splattered heads with glazed looks on their dazed faces.

The Shopkeeper chewing on a bar of clotted cream fudge, smiled up at the police and said these fudge bars are delicious only £1.10p a bar.